


Lost Soul

by xtenn



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt, Loss, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:01:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27981192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtenn/pseuds/xtenn
Summary: Not quite the happily-ever-after for Karen and Matt.Note: this work references loss. Please take care of yourself.xxx
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Karen Page, Matt Murdock/Karen Page
Kudos: 16





	1. Earth

"You can pace all you like," Karen muttered in the bathroom, knowing Matt could certainly hear everything. "But it doesn't make me pee any faster."

That said, Matt's impatience didn't slow the march of liquid across the small window or the appearance of two vibrant stripes on the plastic test. Pregnant. I wonder if I lied about this, I could fool him - even if for just a moment? Grinning wickedly, she opened the door and tried her best: "Well not this month ..."

She was swept up in his arms so fast that she shrieked - her giggling silenced by a joyful kiss. "I knew it!"

"I think you're happier about this than you were when I agreed to marry you," Karen commented reproachfully.

"I'm going to plead the fifth on that." A pause, as he read her traitorous heart. "Aren't you?"

"I didn't really want to marry a Catholic anyway." Matt grimaces in mock offense at their old joke, ha ha. She wriggles out of his grasp to pace their living space. "I'm just ... nervous. That's normal, right? I mean, this is huge news."

Matt catches her again and kisses her softly, confidently. Calluses on his thumbs sweeping her cheeks, fingertips in her hair. "Huge news. But it's going to be amazing. You're going to be amazing. Have faith."

\----

Maggie saw Matt with his suit and cane on the stone steps, and hurried down to meet him. "Matthew! This is an unexpected pleasure. And even a smile today."

"Karen's expecting." The news burst softly from his lips. 

"Oh Matthew. God is good, and we are so blessed." An unexpected hug, kisses on both cheeks. "Is Karen well? And when?"

"Karen's well. It's very early days - I just had to tell you." Matt sought for the right words. "Could you ... pray for us?" 

Maggie laughed. "Yes, Matthew. I will continue to do so every day. Now, do you have time for a walk with an old nun? Tell me everything."


	2. Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning ... gore.

The longer she waited in the doctor's reception area, the greater Karen's discomfort - a slime, heavy and damp, was forming between her legs and it could no longer be ignored. A hot blush of shame on her cheeks, and a futile search in her handbag for anything that might help. Karen had only made the appointment to humour Matt, who had "sensed" something was wrong. She'd laughed his concern away - she had felt completely fine. But now? This could not be real, this is not happening.

"Excuse me?" Whispering to the receptionist, hand holding down the back of her skirt in a discrete attempt to confirm nothing had leaked through. "Is there a ... uh, would you have a sanitary napkin, or ..?"

"There's a drugstore on the corner. But if you're not here when I call your name, you'll miss your spot in line. Up to you." 

"Will the doctor be long - could you tell me, are there many people ahead of me ...?" said Karen.

"I'm a receptionist, not a fortune teller." Sliding away on her wheeled chair, back to her filing. 

\------

Karen bit her fist to stop herself from screaming in the drugstore washroom. Blood, so much blood, and a thick black mess, like tar, poured out of her, unstoppable. Furious hatred and disgust at her ruined clothes, her body's failure and rebellion. Pushing away thoughts that this was karmic retribution, that she hadn't wanted this enough, and the universe had punished her for expecting the happiness of a family, after everything she had done. Forced herself to focus on cleaning up, scrubbing her hands, smoothing her skirt. 

When she did get to her appointment, the doctor was soft, kind yet methodical. Blood would be drawn and tested - and then again in 2 days, to check her hormone levels were dropping. An appointment slip was given for an ultrasound to be administered that afternoon, but given the early stage of pregnancy, nothing was seen anyway: inconclusive. A mockery of hope accompanied by calm words of advice: Rest. This is common, very common. One in four. Take comfort that nothing you did - and nothing you didn't do - had any affect. There's no reason why, it just is. Look after yourself, be kind to yourself. We'll follow up after your next blood test.

An absence of definitive medical answers yet a certainty that was felt as a raw pain, deep in her ribs.

How to tell Matt?

\---------

Matt knew before he opened the door to her that evening. Metal, rust, death. Salt on her cheeks, a coldness, and a refusal to be touched. The continued silence in her womb.

"Oh God Karen, oh God ... What happened?" Her hands are up, don't touch me. 

"Blood tests, ultrasound. I'll do more in a day or so. All inconclusive, but it's over." She's tired, doesn't want to talk. A day of needles in her arm and gloved hands inside her body, of changing soaked bloody pads in public washrooms while she waited for the next doctor or nurse or technician to see her, her clothes stained. Dumping her bag and jacket on the floor, uncaring. "I mean, can't you tell?"

"Well, what happened? How did this happen?" He's baffled, hurting. He'd never heard a heartbeat, but had assumed it was too early.

Karen snapped, angry at his question. "Nothing. It just is. Get me a drink, Matt. I'm going to take a shower." 

By the time she emerged from the bathroom, he was gone. Of course. A whiskey sat on the coffee table, which she drank in a single swallow. 

When sleep wouldn't come, Karen paced - at times attempting to understand Matt's reaction, at others furious at his departure. In sickness and health? For better, for worse? Images behind closed eyelids of the ruined underwear, sealed in a plastic bag for the garbage, the hot water washing the blood away but bloody chunks stubborn and refusing to wash down. Clots and tissue, she'd read - apparently normal, whatever that meant.

Why did this happen? How could she find out? What questions needed to be asked - to whom? The gentle shakes of the doctor's head, sorrowful eyes and pursed lips: there were no answers, no reasons, no explanations. It just was. If this happened again - and again, and again, and again - then certainly they could run tests, investigate. The spectre of repeating today could not be worth the answers, could it? So for now, Karen would have to carry her grief in ignorance as to its cause, and Matt his, with no battle to fight or enemy to overcome. 

Matt found her on the couch, finally asleep, when he returned from the gym and a short scuffle with scum that was significantly rougher than it needed to be. The smell of death mixed with Karen's shampoo in the bathroom made him gag, but he showered off the city's grime as always. Mechanically completing the evening, trying not to think. 

No matter what the Church says, it hadn't ever really been a soul, had it?


	3. Purgatory

Karen had left before Matt was awake, and her absence from the apartment opened up anew the fresh wound of the previous night's news - rapidly pushed back by the realization he would be late.

Get up. Stretch. Get dressed. Jacket, tie. Repeat prepared words for court. Call Foggy, meet him at the courthouse. Coffee on the way. Focus on client, on case. A meagre lunch, discarded half way through, and back to the office. Case notes at his desk, words blurring in his mind. Snapping at Foggy, a poor apology given, blaming the stress of the file. The day goes by. A hollow void in his chest.

Karen isn't at her desk and doesn't call - but neither does he. They're both busy, and that's sometimes how the day goes, right?

\----

I have never been more grateful for back to back meetings, Karen thought. Leads on two separate files, plus time in the library archives for a third. On her feet, across the city, all day. It's great to be busy. 

By midday her hands shook - hunger, most likely, as breakfast had been a coffee at 6:30am. Trying to delight in eating an enormous plate of sashimi, focusing on each portion of salmon and tuna. Blink back tears. Using the restroom to change yet another pad, yet more blood and mess. Deep repulsion at her own body, scrubbing her hands clean like Lady Macbeth. Who would have thought I had so much blood in me? Wipe mascara off cheeks, toughen up.

This happens to lots of women. I'm not alone. It's common. 

By the afternoon, she was exhausted. She was out of breath up the stairs to their apartment, collapsed on the couch on arrival. Youtube videos of cats. Aimless Instagram scrolling. The round cheeks of friends' children, their tiny hands, captured in moments of mess and glee. Tweets lamenting sleepless nights and snarky toddlers. Ads for strollers and pregnancy aps. 

It's 5pm, so Karen opens a beer. Why not. 

When Matt walked in at 7, she was asleep. 

\----

Sister Maggie rushed down the stone steps. Before she even saw Matthew's face, she knew his need for solace, comfort - the slope of his shoulders, the impatient shake of his bruised hand on his cane. 

"Oh Matthew ..." Trying to reach out to him, but he won't be touched and flinches away. He's silent, not wanting the words to be spoken. "Talk to me, Matthew. Is Karen OK?"

"She's fine." He spits the words out. Maggie breathes deeply in relief and gives an unvoiced prayer of thanks. 

"But ..." Maggie begins, enticing her son to let her in.

"She miscarried. Last week."

A cross on her chest, tears in her eyes. Heart aching for the loneliness of Karen's loss, for Matthew's distress.

"And what does the church say about that?" it's rhetorical, sarcastic, and Matthew is not really interested in hearing a reply - yet, Maggie figures, he came here for a reason. Sister Maggie thinks through years of theology and teachings - the militant chorus of life beginning at conception, scared in God's own image, the necessity of baptism. There must be some solace there, but where?

"We suffer throughout life, Matthew - to make us rely, not on ourselves, but on God who raises the dead, or so says Paul," Maggie comments, eventually. Generic words, woefully inadequate, but kindly spoken. "And do not think so little of God, that he would abandon such an innocent lost soul."

"I don't know what I think." The orphaned blind boy, alone in the world. 

"Matthew," Sister Maggie weighs her words carefully. "This pain you feel. You are not alone in it."

"She's back at work. Didn't miss a day."

"And you've never deliberately kept yourself busy, to avoid feeling something? Now I don't know Karen like you, and I don't know her feelings. But Matthew, you are her husband."

"Honestly, she's fine." Too fine. Abnormally fine. As if, and Matt hates this thought, knowing it is baseless, but it comes to him often, but as if Karen was relieved and had managed to hide that from him. Had she even wanted this? 

"So that's the source of your anger? Her peace with something out of her control?" 

Matt stops, thinks back. Peace? Her refusal to be touched. Never being in the office with Matt or Foggy. Sleeping on the couch. The empty beer bottles on the coffee table. Being gone when he woke up - and asleep when he came home. Short discussions, all about work or random household matters, and then usually he'd had to head out to a client or the gym or wherever. When had she last laughed? But, wasn't this all normal, part of their busy legal practice and lives? 

"Matthew, I am so terribly sorry for your loss," Maggie continued. "But please - talk to Karen. Give her your love." 

\-----

Matt tried, he really did. Left work on time, got take out curry, and was home before Karen. Greeted her at the door, took her coat and bag. Felt her tiredness but also her resolve, her stubbornness. 

"What did the doctor say?" Matt gently asked.

"Nothing I couldn't have worked out using Google." Clinical, brushing it away, even a smile. "You bought curry? Thanks, really."

"Is there a ... I mean, do we know why?" A lump in Matt's throat.

"No Matt, we don't and we won't." She's asking him to drop it, let it go, her frustration with him muted but evident. Moving in the kitchen, getting out plates, pulling a beer from the fridge.

"So our baby ..." Matt wants more answers, wants her to talk to him. 

"Our baby? OUR baby?" Plates are placed down too heavily on the counter.

"Jesus Karen! You're acting like this was nothing, but it was our child ..."

"Now you listen to me, Matt." Her voice is cold and cutting. "It was me at the doctors, me having blood tests, me being stripped naked from the waist to be prodded and examined, my hormones that are going crazy. Me. Not you. Not us. Me. That small cluster of cells that never had a heartbeat, that caused me to lose a bucket of blood, that's all you can think about, really? This happens and you're out of here, off to punch something or someone, I don't even know, before you even ask how I am?"

"Well you hardly seemed to have needed my help."

Stops pacing, glares at him. "Your help? You think I want your help? I want you to be my partner in this but you're too busy off saving the city. And let's talk about this, while we're on the subject. Whose baby was it really going to be when you're working 60 hours a week and heading out each night to do God only knows what? Whose? Yours? Ours?" Bitterly sarcastic. "Or would it be up to me to give it all up? Change not just my body but my career, my life? But that's OK, because you'll help?"

"It wouldn't be like that! We'd make it work, Karen, and ... "

She scoffs, how exactly?

"... it was a shock, I handled it badly ... "

"Yeh, well agreeing with me won't make me less angry." A bitter sigh, pacing again. "I'm just being practical, Matt. It didn't work out and maybe it just couldn't. You may have reconciled with your demons and be hoping for your happy ending, but life isn't that easy and you should know that by now."

She's back at the door, picks up her jacket. There's nowhere in this apartment to get away from how he examines her and his invasive assumptions as to her thoughts. 

"Didn't you want this, too?" Listening, waiting for the lie or the truth to confirm his suspicions. 

"I need to be alone, Matt."


	4. Redemption

"Spit it out, Foggy." The fact Foggy had news, good news, had been clear from a block away. 

"Karen here?" Foggy has three coffees and a bag of pastries, and is practically glowing.

"I hear my name ... what's going on?" That powdered makeup, hair tied back - a smart suit, low heels, hands on hips. Even a smile. She was pale, tired, yet working harder than ever, waking early to ensure she was always impeccably presented. Professional, poised, charming. Matt swallowed, unable to understand her, to comprehend this - was it an act? He was in yesterday's shirt, unshaved, knuckles bruised.

"So I am pleased to announce ... Baby Nelson Number 3 is on the way!"

A beat to absorb, then Karen rushed to give Foggy a hug, Matt slapped him on the back. All congratulations, smiles, questions. How he'd been hiding Marci away so Matt wouldn't find out first this time. Boy or girl? How was Marci feeling? Did the kids know? How far along? When? 

But under the celebrations, a rapid heart beat, a shaking hand, the right words pouring out too fast but no truth behind them. Then an excuse made - rushing out to a meeting but she'd be back later - a clear lie. Touching her nose with her finger in brief thought, grabbing her bag, distracted. A swift kiss for Foggy on his cheek, and out the door. Matt may as well have been invisible, listening to her sudden departure, unacknowledged.

"Foggy, you need me this morning?" Matt followed Karen with his ears, hearing the rushing footsteps down stairs, a door slammed open too fast, sharp, quick intakes of breath.

"Uh yes I need you. The Delaney's. We have court in 30 minutes." Incredulous. Not again. 

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important - really - but can you handle it solo?" Matt has already grabbed his glasses and cane, heading towards the door. Karen's on the street, moving fast. 

"Matt ... "

"I owe you one."

Left in the office with his coffee and pastries, Foggy wonders: what the hell just happened?

\------

Matt intercepts Karen a few blocks away, grabs her from the street and doesn't care who sees them. Breath coming in deep gasps, eyes over flowing, a panicked heart. She almost pushes him away, but he holds on. Talk to me, Karen, I'm here, talk to me. Steps with her into the alley, where she hits his torso and screams into his shoulder. Her body shakes, rages, she grips his jacket with fury - head buried in his chest, incoherent with grief. His arms cannot hold her tight enough, his lips are in her hair, murmuring softly. I'm here, I'm here. We will be ok. 

Karen lets herself be held, breathes deeply. 

"Don't think I'm not happy for them, I am." 

"I know." He feels it - her genuine care, tempered by her personal sorrow. "I should have been there for you, and I wasn't. I'm sorry."

"I did really want that baby, you know?"

"Yeh. Me too."

She straightens up and tries to tidy his jacket and tie. Blinks tears, a deep breath, even a tight smile. "You should go - you have court this morning, right?"

Matt kisses her forehead, her tears. "There is nowhere I need to be but here."

A half-laugh. "No, you need to be in court or Foggy will kill you. I'll be OK, truly. But we'll have dinner tonight, yeh? Now go."


	5. Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And some very light smut ... with feelings.

This could be one of any hundreds of nights, coming home through the dark to lie next to his Karen. To kiss her neck and shoulders as he curls up behind her, the reassurance of hearing her heartbeat - she's safe, she's with him. Matt, as always, tries not to wake her - but some nights she stirs in her sleep, eyes half closed. Reaching out to touch his face in the dim light of the room. 

"You OK?"

"Yeh. I am now." 

Her fingers run over his eyebrows and down his cheek, then lightly down his torso - is he real, is he whole, is he all hers? Her touch still jolts through his overly sensitive skin, reminding him that they are each alive, of this privilege to be together. Her shape, her scent, as familiar to him now as the sound of her voice, yet continuously enticing - the line of her sternum, the silky skin under her breasts, ticklish ribs that he brushes to make her gasp and giggle. The pulse in her thigh against his thumb, her hair against his cheeks as he tastes her, her soft sigh. More Matt, more. I need you. Open mouthed kisses, the feel of her hair between his hands and her body moving beneath him. The frenetic lust of early days has been replaced with confidence, certainty, and a complete command of each other. 

And tonight, for the first time, there's something additional, noticed in the quiet aftermath of passion: a flutter of the future, delicate, embedded safe within her. Resting his head on her abdomen to confirm, an involuntary smile.

'What, Matt?"

"I can hear the heart, Karen."


End file.
